


Let Me In

by kinsie



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsie/pseuds/kinsie
Summary: Simon and Baz pull their shutters down low enough to finally let each other in.Or: All those times in Wayward Son Rainbow Rowell alluded to them going at it, and me running to the hills with them.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	Let Me In

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Let Me In by Snowmine. Listen for ALL the snowbaz feels.

**BAZ**

It’s a Tuesday night, Coronation Street is- or was- on, and I’m in Simon Snow’s bed.

At first, we weren’t on the bed. We were on the lumpy sofa in the sitting room, kissing- like we used to. Kissing, properly, for the first time in a long time. Then Simon took my hand and he pulled, and I thought-

So when he kept on kissing me, still holding my hand, still tugging like he wanted to take me somewhere, I stood up. And led him to his bedroom.

Now we’re kissing, but on top of Simon’s covers, and I’m trying to bury the ecstasy (or panic) that’s rising in my stomach. Pressed up against me, I can feel Simon’s rabbit heart.

**SIMON**

I think we’re going to- you know- do it.

Baz is next to me and on top of me and all over me, and I can’t breathe for how good it feels. His kisses are bruising, like he’s been starving, and my mouth is all he’s ever thought of having. I’m not complaining.

I’m scared- of course I’m scared. Two nights ago, I’d lain in bed and counted every single time he’d kissed me (like this- like- _properly_ ) in the last three months. I got up to two. I told myself he was busy with Uni, and he was. (Baz and Penny had had their semester exams last month. I started getting into FIFA.)

We’re- we’re okay. We’re not good, but we’re okay. It’s like treading on ice, like one wrong move will have us opening up a crack so wide it’ll collapse underneath us, and the water will swallow us whole. Perhaps that’s why, when he finally touches me, I feel like I’m drowning.

I don’t know if he loves me. But I know I do him. (Maybe it’s the only thing I know about us.)

Baz sort of- _whimpers_ \- against my lips, and suddenly, I’m trying not to cry. It’s a surprise I’m not crying all the time, really. Instead, I kiss him harder, give him what I haven’t been able to for so long, what he deserves. (He deserves more than me.)

Agatha and I were simple. We were easy. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing worth fighting for is ever easy.

**BAZ**

I don’t know if he wants this.

Right now, he’s pulling at my clothes, my hair, like he can’t get enough. The hand against my neck is burning, heating my body from where his fingertips and broad palm press hard.

I think he wants this.

You can’t make Simon Snow do anything he doesn’t want to do. Even without his magic, he’s like a bulldozer, a hurricane. He’s so headstrong it’s a wonder he can lift his eyes to see where he’s going. I love it. I love him.

**SIMON**

I don’t know when we started taking our clothes off, but suddenly, we’re naked (well, in our pants), and still kissing. Now I’m not just sinking. I can feel the water filling my lungs, and I can’t breathe.

Baz’s hand skims down my back to hold me at my waist. I will myself to relax. (All my blood has rushed to the surface of my skin; I’m not sure how Baz is coping. I hope he’s alright.)

I used to hang about without my shirt on all the time, back at Mummers House. Especially after a shower, when I’d walk out of the bathroom to put on the rest of my clothes. I used to tell myself it was because there weren’t enough hooks in there. I think I just wanted him to see me.

And then, when it was all over, when my magic was gone and I was _just_ Simon, it felt like my body had given up on me too, just like everyone and everything else. I felt sluggish, like my limbs were made of lead. I couldn’t get up; I couldn’t do anything.

I used to imagine a day in my life fast-forwarded, like a time lapse. If you want to imagine it too, think of me, lying on the sofa. And as time runs by, I’m still on that sofa, while Baz comes in and kisses me on the cheek and sits with me for a while before he leaves again, and Penny rushes in and chokes down her lunch and rushes back out again, and the two of them run circles around me, being busy, having a life. And by the end of the day, you don’t have to worry, because I’m still there, on the sofa.

(Oh, I missed out the bits where I’m eating. Usually I just eat because I’m hungry, and I like food. But then I started eating because there was nothing else do to. When I’m eating, I don’t have to think about Baz and me. I once told myself that- under my breath- when I was reaching for my fourth Magnum. “ _Stop eating your feelings, Simon.”_ Penny heard- she’s got ears like a bat- and properly went off at me.)

Baz has stopped kissing me. His lips are almost red. He’s got his hands at my waist and they’re inching down just this side of slowly. “Yes?” he asks.

I stare at him. His hands are cold, but they burn. I can’t get enough; I don’t think I ever will. Baz just looks at me, waiting. Sometimes I hate that he treats me like I’m fragile. As if one word could make me go off. (I wish I could, just to feel something. Just to know there’s something alive inside of me.)

“Simon,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead and pulling back, eyes concerned. I can almost imagine what he’s not saying. _“Use your words, Snow.”_

“Yes,” I say.

**BAZ**

I flip us so that he’s on top of me, straddling me. The relief in his eyes is immediate, and the knot in my chest loosens. I know he likes to be in control. I understand how he feels, and I would be the same, if it weren’t for the fact that I love losing control around Simon.

It feels like playing with fire. It feels like being alive.

**SIMON**

He’s underneath me and spread out and so, so beautiful. For a moment, I’m glad our positions aren’t in reverse. I’d feel so exposed. Baz can do it because he’s _Baz_ , he’s unreal, but I-

My fingers brush ever so gently at his chest, and then hover there. Baz just looks at me, before he takes my hand and presses it to his heart. (Or, the middle of his chest. I’m pretty sure your heart is more to the left.)

“Simon,” he whispers, and for once, I understand him.

**BAZ**

I still have to make sure. He’s shifting me, pulling my legs up, doing that mind-blowing, _heart-wrenching_ thing with his fingers when I say, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Baz.”

“Have you ever…?”

“No, I- no. Have you?”

“You know I haven’t.”

Simon seems to relax a little, at that. The way he was looking at me before, it was like all those other times I’ve caught him staring. He stares and he stares and I know he wants to touch me- I can practically see his fingers twitching- but he won’t.

_I haven’t, Simon. I was waiting for you._

_I think I would have waited forever._

_Let me give this to you, Simon. Let me have this._

**SIMON**

I really am crying, now. I don’t remember exactly when I started; I think it was somewhere between Baz wrapping his legs around my waist and me realising- like a ton of bricks had fallen down on my chest- that I was _inside_ him. Baz opens his eyes- they’d been squeezed shut- and he sees me. He untangles his hands from the sheets and cups my face. He reaches up and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth.

When he leans back, his lips are wet with my tears.

“Simon…”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Baz.”

I feel a little silly- after all, shouldn’t I be the one comforting him? I’m so scared that I’m hurting him, that it’s too much, even though he’s a vampire and I’ve never heard him shout from pain- not once. But then he smiles at me softly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. It feels like he’s encouraging me.

And I let him.

**BAZ**

I didn’t know it could feel like this. His mouth, his hands, his-

I am _so_ fucking glad I’m gay.

Simon’s muscles are rippling under my hands as I scrabble for purchase. His wings stretch out above us like a canopy. His hair is falling into his eyes. He’s beautiful.

I wish we could be this close forever. With my arms wrapped around him, with my legs bracketing his hips, he can’t run away. From the way he’s crying out into the crook of my neck, it doesn’t seem like he wants to.

**SIMON**

It feels like we’re outside, on the roof or something, and all the stars above us are exploding. It feels like they’re all exploding and even then, there aren’t enough of them. All the stars and more.

**BAZ**

It takes us a while for us to come back to ourselves. We still haven’t let go of each other, and I can feel the anxiety building up in my gut. It’s always like this: every time we get close, I can’t appreciate it, because I’m thinking about how long it will be before he pulls away again. How hard it will be to shutter my face and pretend I don’t mind. (Sometimes, I kiss him, and my heart breaks.)

Simon is silent. I wish the freckles on his cheeks would shift, gather into something resembling words. I wish they would betray what his mouth won’t.

Two steps forward, one step back.

**SIMON**

He takes a long time to fall asleep, but it’s easy to tell when he does, and anyway, I’ve had a lot of practice staying up- waiting. Baz’ shoulders lose their stiffness (he holds them like he’s balancing books on his head- like a model, or something) and his mouth falls open just slightly. (He snores as well, but I won’t ever tell him that; I like my head firmly attached to my neck, thank you very much.)

Sometimes, I imagine him exactly like this, but instead of a bed, he’s lying in a coffin, and instead of sheets and pillows, he’s surrounded by cream-coloured lilies.

Sometimes, it’s hard to remind myself that he’s alive.

I press my ear to his chest and hear nothing.


End file.
